


Politics

by ottermo



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She didn’t know how much Martin had told his mother, beyond her name and the fact that they were dating.</p><p>And, presumably, the fact that she was the Princess of Liechtenstein. She was resigned to this being, forever, the most interesting fact about herself, the first thing people had to know." </p><p>Written for Project Theresa!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Politics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timeladyleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyleo/gifts).



 

It wasn’t as if Theresa had chosen to meet Martin’s mother without Martin himself being around. The fact it happened that way was mostly due to traffic – air traffic, keeping him circling Fitton while Carl dealt with a troop of Red Arrow tribute flyers who refused to land without practicing their loops, and then road traffic, keeping him in a slow-moving queue when he should really have been sitting with his mother and girlfriend, in the agreed-upon café at the agreed-upon time.

Instead, it was just the two of them.

Theresa had recognised Wendy from a picture she’d seen on Martin’s phone, in between the selfies with Arthur and the copious shots of rare vintage planes. She approached the table where the older woman was seated, unsure if Wendy would recognise her in return. She didn’t know how much Martin had told his mother, beyond her name and the fact that they were dating.

And, presumably, the fact that she was the Princess of Liechtenstein. She was resigned to this being, forever, the most interesting fact about herself, the first thing people had to know. 

Wendy glanced up, and smiled, expectantly.

“Are you Martin’s mother?” Theresa asked, returning the smile.

“I am! Theresa, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and Wendy stood up from her chair. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you.” Unexpectedly, she leaned forward to hug Theresa, who was momentarily taken aback. A welcome change from the usual intimidated blushes and awkward ceremonial handshakes, that was for sure.

“Sit down, dear, and we can chat while we wait for Martin. I’m so glad he organised a little meet-up. I don’t see him as often as I’d like, what with his job, you know, it’s got so that it’s a treat to feel so involved in his life. Oh, but you mustn’t let me babble on!”

“Not at all,” said Theresa, as they both sat down. “I’m pleased to meet you, too. Martin’s told me a lot about you.”

“But he hasn’t told me anywhere near enough about _you_! For instance, where is your pretty accent from?”

Theresa blinked.

Wendy smiled, as if to put her at ease, and continued, “I would like to guess Germany, but perhaps I’m missing the mark? I’m not very good at placing voices.”

Theresa opened her mouth to speak, but she just wasn’t sure what to say. It was…she hadn’t even considered that Martin might not have told his mother. This, of course, explained the warm, open welcome, completely devoid of the nervousness that even the friendliest of people usually showed when meeting her. For these few minutes, Theresa realised, she was being received at face value, as a person, not just a princess. Not by a waitress or a passer-by who had no reason to know who she was, but by someone _important,_ someone who would matter and continue to matter in her life.

Technically, Martin’s first few seconds of knowing her had been similar, but she’d told him almost straight away: _she is…in front of you._

But back then it had been fairly relevant to the situation – they’d been expecting to fly a princess. Martin had worn _medals_.

Wendy was wearing a lilac cardigan and a pair of comfy jeans, and she was expecting to meet her son’s girlfriend, not royalty.

How long, thought Theresa, could it just stay…out of the conversation?

How long since she’d had a meaningful first conversation with _anyone_ that didn’t involve her position in some way?

She couldn’t recall.

“Liechtenstein,” she said, finally. “I’m from Liechtenstein.”

“Oh!” Wendy said, eyes wide. “You know, I’ve never met anybody from there before. It’s a little place, isn’t it?”

Theresa smiled. “The fourth smallest country in the world. In fact, we don’t even have an airport.”

Wendy chuckled in delight. “Fancy that! So how did you and Martin meet? I thought he said he’d flown you somewhere.”

“He did,” Theresa confirmed, wondering what on earth else Martin had actually told his mother, since he’d left the most obvious detail out. “He and Douglas and Arthur picked us up in Liechtenstein, then we drove across the border and left from Switzerland.”

“Plenty of airports there, I suppose!” Wendy said, content with the explanation. “And the two of you just hit it off?”

“Yes.” Theresa leaned forward and rested her elbows on the little table, feeling a little warmer at the prospect of telling the story of her first encounter with Martin. “He asked me to visit Duxford Air Museum with him.”

Wendy shook her head, and chuckled. “Well, I never. Some things never change with that boy, it’s always been his favourite place. Did you take him up on that first offer, or suggest somewhere else?”

“The first,” Theresa said. “I’ve always liked aeroplanes. I wanted to be a pilot, when I was a child.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Wendy said. “Martin must be thrilled about that. But you changed your mind, when you got older?”

Theresa thought back to being nine years old, watching cloud trails from her castle bedroom and wishing she’d been born to an ordinary family, or at the very least, born second. Even at that young age, she’d become aware of how little her life would be her own.

“Something like that,” Theresa said. When she met Wendy’s eyes, she found them sympathetic, concerned, as though she could see that nine-year-old child underneath it all. “My…parents had other plans.”

Wendy tutted. “Parents. We try our best, but we so often miss what our children really want. My late husband was like that, rest his soul. He was never keen on Martin training to be a pilot. I must admit, when it didn’t happen for him straight away, I wished he would find something else, too. But he kept pushing, and he did it. Showed us it was what he was meant for after all.” She shook her head a little. “Sorry, dear, I’m babbling again.”

“No, please,” Theresa said, waving her hand to dismiss the apology. “I like hearing it.”

But Wendy just smiled. “I’m sure Martin’s told you the story about his dad’s van. I’d rather hear about you, dear. What did you end up doing, instead of piloting?”

Theresa hesitated. “I’m—”

She ought to come clean, she realised, end this little foray into anonymity before Martin arrived and misread the situation.

But, a little voice told her, he didn’t tell his mother you’re a princess.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be important. Just for a day.

“…involved in…politics,” she continued, thinking it best not to lie outright. “Though I spend a lot of time making sure my little brother doesn’t get into a trouble, as well.”

“Oh, that’s a full-time occupation if ever I heard of one!” Wendy chuckled. “Simon, my eldest, was always looking out for Martin, too. Not that Martin appreciated it very much!”

“Neither does Maxie,” said Theresa with a grimace. “He likes to call me his jailer.” And he threatens to charge me with treason at least once a week, she adds silently, and he’s the only eleven-year-old I know who actually _could_. “But he’s away at school now. In fact, when Martin flew us that first time, it was to take him to school.”

“Boarding school?” Wendy said, inquisitive in a way that reminded Theresa suddenly of Martin.

“Yes. He hates it, but… our mother insists.”

“So while he’s away, then. You’ve got your politics.” Wendy paused to sip the drink she must have ordered before Theresa arrived, and Theresa held her breath for a moment, wondering if she’d be pushed for more details on her ‘job’. “My eldest, Simon, is into all that too. He works for the government, you know.”

“Does he?”

And later, when she describes this part of the conversation to Martin, he won’t believe that she found his mother’s tales about Simon’s career interesting on any level. But she will tell him that all of it was fascinating, that she could listen to Wendy Crieff talk for an age, the tiny windows into that peculiar thing called Normal Life a welcome change from dinner-party small talk and formal greetings each visitor had rehearsed a hundred times.

It was in the midst of those window-glimpses that Martin found them, finally arriving about twenty minutes after Theresa, still in his captain’s uniform and full of apologies.

“It’s quite all right, dear,” Wendy said comfortably, as he sat down opposite them. “We’ve been getting to know one another quite well.”

Martin grinned. “That’s good.” He reached for Theresa’s hand, over the table. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet for a while now. I wasn’t really planning not to be here for it.”

“We managed fine,” Theresa assured him. “Although I’m…surprised at how _much_ you hadn’t told your mother.”

“Oh, you mean—!” Martin said, eyes widening.

“Yes, you didn’t tell me she was in politics, darling. Just like Simon!”

“I mean, he only works for the council--” Martin said quickly, before realising what this meant. He shot a glance at Theresa, who returned it demurely. “You didn’t…?” he murmured.

“I was surprised you hadn’t,” Theresa said quietly. “I wondered if there was a reason.”

Wendy looked at both of them, expectantly.

Martin cleared his throat. “I… all right, Mum. There’s something else neither of us have told you. Stand by to be a bit surprised.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s usually the first thing out of your mouth,” Theresa remarked, as Martin dropped her back to the entrance of Maxie’s school, for the Visitors’ Day she’d originally come for. “I still don’t really understand why you hadn’t told her.”

He smiled.

“It didn’t seem… I don’t know. It just… When she asked me about you, I always ended up talking about _you_.”

“Well, that would seem to make sense,” Theresa said, a twinkle in her eye.

Martin chuckled. “You know what I mean, though. She wanted to know proper things. _How_ you are, not…”

“Not _what_ I am,” Theresa finished, softly.

“Yeah." He paused, looked concerned for a second. "Would you rather I’d just told her?”

“No,” Theresa said, quickly. “No, it was… It was nice, to meet someone properly like that. I never get to make first impressions. It’s always the other person feeling like they have to impress _me_.”

Martin nodded. “I think I get what you mean.”

“The question is,” she asked, mock-seriously, “When will I get to meet this famous politician brother of yours?”

Martin groaned. “Oh, one day you’ll have to. With him, let’s go for the most dramatic reveal we can manage.”

“Noted.” Theresa giggled. “We can pull out all the stops.” She paused, and glanced out of the car window. “Are you going back home now?”

Martin shrugged. “I suppose. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” she said, nodding to the school. “If you’d like to come to Visitors’ Day. We could do something less tedious afterwards.”

“What could be less tedious than meeting your brother’s little friends?” Martin quipped. “All right, let’s do it. On one condition: we don’t tell them I’m a captain. I want to see if I can stay undercover longer than you did with Mum.”

Theresa looked him up and down, from cuff-stripes to braided hat.

“Game on, Captain.”

 


End file.
